Standard Time

You have to love standard time when it means that it is only 10 in the morning and you are returning from a two hour hike with your husband and baby. Then again, that means that the baby's been up since 4:30 am, but hey, it was your husband's turn to get up with him.
The hike was lovely - the leaves are beautiful right now and they smell so good, crisp on the path.

The rest of the day, unfortunately, like most Sundays, was spent on housework. I can really see how it could get out of hand. Cleaning the house when you live with an almost - 10 month old, while so necessary, seems like a joke. He could literally crawl around behind me and undo every single thing I do. And you should see his meal times. There is food flinging three times a day in this house.

It really gets me stressed at times, cleanliness or the lack thereof. Especially with K. crawling around on the floor. And we live in one of those older houses (a rental) where you feel like certain places never get quite clean. (The bathroonm, like Bri's old bathroom of horror, but on a milder scale.) Yet I have to remind myself, it is probably the least important thing.